The Seven Deadly Sins of Hermione Granger
by silver-nightstorm
Summary: He dared her. Even in her sorrow, she couldn't ignore a challenge from him.
1. Envy

_He dared her. Even in her sorrow, she couldn't ignore a challenge from him. _

**The Seven Deadly Sins of Hermione Granger**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 499**

**XX**

He found her sitting in the hall, crying. As he tried to bypass her, she sniffled louder and lifted her tearstained eyes to meet his. With an acrid sigh, he made his way back to her form.

"What is the matter, Miss Granger?" he drawled, fighting back the urge to grimace at his quasi-considerate tone.

"I hate you," she hissed. He raised an eyebrow as she looked away from him.

"This isn't new to me," he responded, "but I was under the impression I have been ignoring you. Not a single barb on my end. Pray, tell, what have I done to earn your dislike?"

"How do you do it?" she demanded instead, furiously wiping tears off of her cheeks. He continued to stare. "How can you stand teaching here every single day, with reminders etched over the walls of the war and everything that happened? How do you do it without completely breaking down? Teach me!" She pulled herself up from her rolled up position on the ground to stand nose to chest with him. She was much tinier than him but the height difference didn't stop her from glaring fiercely up at him. "I'm envious of you, Professor," she hissed. "I'm envious of your ability to put on a façade and simply pretend everything is okay. I'm envious of your ability to keep on living when I can barely stand putting one foot in front of another on a good day." She reached out, her tiny hands grabbing the lapels on his dress shirt. "Tell me how you do it!"

He pried her hands off of his person, one by one. He turned around and walked away. As he billowed down the corridor, her voice caught up to him.

"I see," she said bitterly. "That's how you do it. You don't think about it. … That's unhealthy, you know?" He stopped, hearing a faint scraping noise as she slid back down the wall and landed once more on the ground with a small thud. "I guess I'll have to try _Occlumancy_."

He didn't even realize he was moving until he stood in front of her once more, grasping her robes in his slim, potion-scarred hands. "Don't you dare," he hissed. "Don't you _dare_ do that!"

"Ah, that's what you do, isn't it?" she mused. "So then why shouldn't I…"

"It's not worth it!" he shouted. His deep baritone echoed down the hall, stunning Hermione and himself into silence. He took deep breaths, gathering his cool once more. "It's not worth it, Miss Granger. You don't want to be like me. You have a life ahead of you. Don't ruin it by turning yourself to stone."

"If it works…"

"This is not a way out!" he hissed. "Every cloud has a silver lining, including yours, including mine. I dare you to find it. Unless you're not the Gryffindor you say you are?"

She glared at him, her eyes switching from teary to hard in mere moments. "Try me."

**XX**

_The 2012 Hogwarts Games – Shot Put Round 2 – 500 words_

_The OTP Boot Camp – acrid _

_The Magic Number Competition – Seven Deadly Sins – envy – every cloud has a silver lining_

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	2. Pride

**Words: 1153**

**XX**

Change always caught him off guard. The next time he saw her, nearly a year later, he fought to not let his jaw drop in absolute shock. She had completely transformed from the crying, sniveling mess that lay on the floor that January. Her hair no longer resembled a rat's nest and her face was no longer red and tear-stained just as her eyes no longer held an ever-present mourning moisture. For the first time in months, she wore neat robes that did not look like they had been unwashed for weeks. The pair she currently sported was a soft shade of lilac he had never seen her wear before. Her time away from Hogwarts had done her good. Minerva had only informed him a week ago that she would be returning to take the post under him as the Potions Apprentice.

He never imagined she would have taken his dare to heart.

She smiled at him almost shyly from where she now sat on a stool in the background eager to assist students who needed help and to watch for those in danger of causing Longbottom-like accidents. Clearing his throat, he quickly resumed his fourth year lesson, throwing in a little introduction for her. It took a few moments to regain the attention of the star-struck class but a poisonous glare from him quickly did the trick.

He cleared his throat and resumed his lecture without missing a beat. "Wolfsbane is, quite possibly, one of the most important and most difficult potions in the world to create. To become a Potions Master, one must have the knowledge to brew this potion. Now, can anyone tell me what Wolfsbane is used for?"

A small blonde girl raised her hand in the back of the room. He nodded at her and she spoke. "Wolfsbane is the only known way to temporarily relieve some of the worst symptoms that plague Werewolves." He nodded when the small noise of a throat clearing stopped everyone in the room. He looked up to see her poised to speak.

"Actually," she began softly, "that isn't exactly correct anymore. I have been working on some research that shows that it might be possible to permanently alleviate…"

"Miss Granger," he snapped, cutting her off mid-sentence. She gasped and sat up straight, unable to fight her instinctual reaction to his tone. "Do not presume that you alone can do what years of Potions Masters have been unable to accomplish. The field of Potions is a volatile and difficult one. The Masters do not take kindly to a young upstart who has the pride to assume greater knowledge than…"

"But sir, I didn't _assume_…" she began to protest.

"Silence is golden, Miss Granger. You'd do well to remember it." He glared at her and the words of protest stuck in her throat. She plopped back down on the stool and crossed her arms stubbornly. The look in her eye told him that this conversation wasn't over just yet. When the bell rang and the students bolted out the door, she picked herself up off of her chair and stalked towards him in a manner that eerily reminded him of himself.

"I know my research is good," she hissed. "No one has the right to judge me and say otherwise, least of all you!"

He crossed his arms in front of his torso, flicking his robes around his body with the movement. "Really, Miss Granger?" he drawled. "Because I seem to recall forcing a sniveling mess to clean up her life one night – an action that if I had not taken, would have resulted in the mess in question remaining as such for many years to come. I hold the right to judge you. You cannot deny it to me. It isn't yours to give or to take."

She practically growled at him, clenching her fists and standing on her tippy toes so as to look into his eyes. Her hair was slowly coming free from its neat, librarian-like bun to spread into an angry halo of curls around her face.

"You have no right," she snarled. And before he could even react, she wound up and slapped him across the cheek. He reached a shocked hand up to touch the pale skin of his face that was rapidly turning red in the shape of a tiny palm. She didn't move, her eyes wide open in horror. "Sir, I'm so sorry, I don't know what…"

He held up a hand to stop her rambling words and she visibly flinched causing him to groan. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, his voice surprisingly clam. She barely nodded, still standing frozen as if she expected him to strike her back. "Now, I know you're an intelligent witch, Miss Granger, but you need to prove it to the rest of the imbeciles in this field. In Potions, your actions will hold more weight than your words. The Masters will laugh at a young upstart who claims to have the cure to Lycanthropy. You must keep your head low and let your results speak for themselves when you present your potion. You cannot go slapping the Masters to make them see your point of view. Nor can you punch them, or harm them in any other way."

Her face turned bright red at his last words. "You… you act like you know what it's like," she stuttered, trying to not think of a younger version of him punching his Master.

For a moment she thought he was laughing. "Of course I do," he said, his face appearing stoic as suddenly as he had appeared to laugh. "I wasn't always Master in this field and you're not the first Apprentice to lose a temper. It's the first lesson that every Apprentice learns about being a Master – patience. I made many mistakes, among them hexing my own Master and mouthing off as a brash young man. I quickly learned my lesson and when I let the Wolfsbane potion speak for itself, I finally gained the respect I desired."

She couldn't help herself. Her jaw dropped. "You?" she managed. "You created Wolfsbane?"

"Of course."

"But… But…" she sputtered. "But the textbooks all say that the creator of the potion was Damocles…"

"An alias. The Dark Lord would not have taken kindly to me subduing his best monsters."

"I…" she sighed, looking at her foot as she traced a pattern on the stone floor before him. He fought the urge to shake her to make her speak quicker, but he knew that she needed to ask of her own accord. "Will… Will you help me with my research, sir?"

He allowed a ghost of a smile to grace his face. "If you would wound your pride so by asking me, I simply must assist."

She smiled nervously back at him and something in the air between them – the tension? – seemed to change.

**XX**

_The Ultimate Death Eater Competition – Round 2 – Bellatrix Lestrange or Severus Snape – "No one has the right to judge me." _

_The Magic Number Competition – Seven Deadly Sins – pride – actions speak louder than words_

_The Fifteen Colours Competition – lilac (in Victorian ages, it was used as a color of mourning a year after someone passed away, hence the colour of Hermione's robes)_

_OTP Boot Camp – silence is golden _

_The Honeydukes Competition – Bertie Blotts Every Flavour Beans – __It's a risk just to try one. So this story has to be about your character taking a risk in some way shape or form._

_Lets End This The Way It Started Competition – change _

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	3. Wrath

**Words: 1125**

**XX**

Another year had almost passed and he had grown accustomed to her presence. He had, unconsciously, made it a habit to monitor her health. Without even realizing it, he found himself noticing if her eyes were red, or if her smiles were forced, or if her hands were trembling. At Christmas almost two years after the war, she should have been fine. In fact, she had been completely fine until the red haired dunderhead that she still insisted on dating turned up at the cozy one-table Christmas feast.

The weasel sat across from him at the feast, purposefully avoiding his eyes. Whenever he made eye contact, he would quickly look away as if he knew some deep, dark secret that he couldn't share. He knew that Potter showed his loyal sidekick the memories. He knew that Weasley knew that it was those memories that resulted in Potter's death and Miss Granger's breakdown in the hallway. It wasn't some dark secret he should be ashamed of but every time his eyes met Miss Granger's he couldn't help his little twinge of guilt.

But as the feast had gone on, Miss Granger had looked increasingly more agitated. It had started off very simply. Weasley had – presumably – moved to hold her hand and she had jumped and pulled her fingers away from his offending limb. After that, she had grown increasingly more and more and more fidgety until she was practically trembling in her chair. Something was wrong.

Weasley finally heaved a giant sigh and stood up. "If you don't want me here, just say so, Hermione."

The eyes of the students and professors remaining in the hall immediately fell onto the redhead and his bushy haired companion. She took another bite off of her fork and placed the utensil down carefully, trying not to jar it with her trembling. "Ron, I never said that…"

"You haven't been the same since you refused my proposal…"

"Ron!" she shrieked, jumping from her seat as the rest of the table remained shocked at this new piece of information. "That is private! You have no right to just blurt it out to everyone here!"

Weasley scowled and crossed his arms. "You had no right to refuse."

He couldn't believe himself. As he glared at the Weasley boy across the table from him, he kept his clenched fists under the table.

The hall was so silent even the jostling of silverware could be heard. The arguing couple remained still for a few moments before she lifted up her right hand and slapped Weasley across the face. He sputtered.

"This," she hissed, "is _exactly_ why it's my right to refuse you. We're over, Ron. Now, and forever. Don't try to come back. Don't try to win me back. Not unless you want to face my wrath."

The eerie silence prevailed in the hall as she brushed off her robes, spun on her heel, and marched right out.

Minerva cleared her throat. "I'm afraid you've outstayed your welcome here, Mister Weasley," she said sternly while glaring at him over the frames of her glasses. "I dearly hope you reconsider your attitude before entering another adult relationship."

When Weasley didn't move, he changed his previously blasé expression to the glare he had been suppressing. "Out," he said softly, but with authority. "Now."

Weasley scurried out of the room and he stood up. "Minerva," he said, indicating towards the door. She nodded and he swept out of the room after Miss Granger.

He found her down in the library thumbing furiously through the pages of _Hogwarts: A History_. While he waited for her to register his presence, he noticed that her trembling had ceased to be replaced with a carefully controlled fury that was visible in her precise motions. She looked up suddenly, an almost mad light in her eyes, and softened when she noticed him.

"Did he leave?" she asked blandly, her voice not betraying the emotion that was obvious in her body. He nodded. She closed the book and let it rest on the table next to her. "What a waste of time," she muttered. He didn't respond, choosing instead to take a seat in the cushioned chair next to her.

It was silent in the library for a while, neither party feeling the need to talk. Severus observed her out of the corner of his eye as she slowly relaxed and let her anger seep out of her being. He didn't speak, waiting instead for her to make the first move.

"You know," she began, "he was angry because I was never around. I don't think he appreciated how much work an apprenticeship is. I told him I would be absent a lot once I got my life back together but I guess some part of him liked the fact that I needed to depend on him. When I didn't need him that much anymore… he took it personally." She was quiet once more for a few minutes before speaking. "Somewhere in his head he had the idea that it was my dream to be a perfect wife. He wanted me to cook and clean and tend to the house for him. Once upon a time that might have been my dream, I honestly couldn't say."

He gave her an astonished look and she gave him a tiny smile in return. "Even a smart girl plans her wedding as a child," she said, a far away look in her eyes. "It sounds crazy, but part of the reason I lost that rose-colored view is because I loved your class. It was difficult and challenging and wonderful. Honestly though, if you hadn't pulled me back into my life, I would have followed Ron. I would have married him and given him the family and the home he'd always wanted just because he acted as my constant. So thank you."

"Why?" he asked simply, meeting her eyes for the first time in the conversation. "It sounds like I ruined your relationship."

"We wouldn't have lasted," she replied finally. "We're too different. Somewhere in the back of his mind, I'm still the silly girl who just helped him with his homework and he's always the boy who made me cry. Opposites attract, yes, but opposites don't last."

She picked up _Hogwarts: A History_ once more and resumed her perusal of the pages. He just sat there, watching her from the corner of his eyes, and wondering when she had decided to grow up and why no one had informed him.

She looked up at him suddenly, smirking a little as she noticed his eyes on her. "Merry Christmas Severus," she said, smiling more as his eyes widened at the use of his name.

"Merry Christmas… Hermione."

**XX**

_Fanfiction Tournaments Competitions – TOURNAMENT 2 CHRISTMAS ROUND 1_

_The 2012 Hogwarts Games – ATHLETICS – Long Jump Round 2 – Childhood Dreams, connect to Dark Secrets from SoOVI, "You must be crazy."_

_The 2012 Hogwarts Games – Men's Tennis Finals – The Weasley Family (Ron Weasley) _

_The 2012 Hogwarts Games – Shot Put Round 3 – Write a 1000 word story based off of my OTP (Severus Snape / Hermione Granger) _

_The 'Stretch Your Limits' Competition – Medium – Write about a Canon Relationship Break-up. You must write over 1000 words._

_Honeydukes Competition – Licorice Wands – Wands have to with magic. So the challenge is to have your story take place in a magical setting, such as Hogsmeade, St Mungo's, or Hogwarts._

_The Greek Mythology Competition – Hestia – virgin Goddess of the heath, home, and cooking_

_The School Subjects Competition – Defense Against the Dark Arts – Write a fic about either a member of Dumbledore's Army, the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eaters. The fic must be about the war (first or second) and your character(s) experiences in it (or its aftermath). (Hermione struggling post war with her life and relationships). _

_The Pairing Diversity Bootcamp – Severus/Hermione – eerie_

_The Magic Number Competition – The Seven Deadly Sins – Wrath, Absence_

_The OTP Bootcamp – Severus/Hermione – waste_

_100 Different Pairings Competition – Severus/Hermione – year_

You should review because I'd really appreciate it :3


	4. Gluttony

**Words: 1329**

**XX**

He stood in the doorway of her office, watching her alternate between large spoonfuls of cookie dough ice cream and bites of chocolate as the rain pattered on the windowsill behind her. "Not in the mood for a New Year's party?"

She leveled a glare at him and he held his hands up in surrender. She returned to her food, if it could be called that.

"You should talk to him."

She almost pouted at him, cradling her tub of ice cream closer to her body. "I don't _want_ to talk to him."

"We both know that's a lie. You wouldn't be gorging yourself on junk if you didn't care."

Her mouth dropped open, thankfully devoid of remainders of food, and a bit of fire returned to her eyes. "I am not _gorging myself_…!" she said haltingly, half indignant, half resigned. He raised an eyebrow at her denial. "I'm not a glutton! I'm just… eating… food… a lot…"

She growled a little bit at her admission and set down the pint with an unceremonious thump. "I don't want to talk to him, really. I'm angry at him for being so insensitive!" She broke of with a belligerent sigh as if she was unsure whether to be angry or not. But as her silence grew, her frown deepened and her grip on her spoon began to turn her knuckles white.

He glared at her, took a deep breath, and spoke. "I do not like Weasley," he began. She looked ready to jump in with angry expletives, so he held up a single finger to stop her. "I do not like Weasley _but_ he has always been your friend. And while the two of you have fought, he has always been by your side when it mattered the most." She looked ready to protest once more, so he simply looked pointedly at his finger, causing her to fall silent. "If I know one thing about Weasley, it is that he is not rude without a cause. What did you say to him, Miss Granger? He wouldn't behave this way without some sort of provocation, real or imagined."

She heaved a sigh and looked away from his piercing glare. "I might have... I might... It's my fault, okay? Does it make you happy to hear that?!"

"It makes me happy to hear you admit the truth."

She heaved another sigh. "I understand why he acted this way. I mean, I didn't have the decency to tell him we weren't working. I never told him that I already considered us over and I should have done that. But… we're grown-ups now! We need to be able to have talks that don't get other people involved!"

"Sometimes you need to talk to others to sort out your own thoughts."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, you're one to say that. Mister I-Don't-Need-Anyone." She gave him a listless smile.

He looked as though he was about to roll his eyes back at her when he offered up his hand. She looked at the slender limb as though it was an alien creature.

"Come on," he said, hand still proffered. She hesitantly laid down her spoon, pushed away the tub of ice cream, and carefully re-wrapped the chocolate in its tattered cover. He raised an eyebrow as she scuttled towards him, trembling, almost mouse-like, and nervously gripped his hand as if she doubted it was there for holding.

Under normal circumstances he would have glared at her foolishness. Now he wanted to laugh.

He swept out of her office, pulling her along with him at his swift pace, quickly turning down the hall to arrive at his own chambers. The doors gently opened with a muttered utterance of the password and he walked past the office, leading her towards the sitting room behind and letting go of her tiny, warm hand to deposit her into a cushioned couch. He moved to his liquor cabinet and pulled out two crystal tumblers and an orange bottle of firewhiskey. He poured them both decent amounts and gave her one glass.

She accepted it and downed it in a second without a flinch.

He raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "I suppose my taste buds have been dulled by so much sweet." She held out her glass and her poured her more of the amber liquid. She swirled it and surveyed his expression as he drank his glass, his eyes never leaving her face.

She downed her glass once more and laughed at his worried expression. "I can handle my liquor, _sir_," she said with a sarcastic smirk and a twinkle in her eye. "I've had a lot of practice these last couple years." He eyes moved to the grandfather clock in the corner. 11:47. "I suppose this counts as an impromptu New Year's party?"

He shrugged and refilled their glasses, placing the bottle on the table before the couch and sinking his long frame onto the cushions next to her. "If you insist, Miss Granger."

"Hermione."

He raised an eyebrow.

"We're peers now."

He smirked. "Don't get ahead of yourself, apprentice."

She waved him off, her delicate hand close enough to his face that he noticed the chips in the gold polish on her nails. "I mean it," she said. "Miss Granger is a mouthful."

"Hermione isn't?"

She fixed him with the glare that she reserved specially for a foolish Harry. "I'm going to call you Severus anyway, so you might as well call me Hermione. And 'Miss Granger' makes me feel like a firstie. I'm _not_ a firstie." She downed her firewhiskey to prove the point. He gently pried the tumbler from her fingers to set it on the table, in the process losing grip on his own full glass allowing her to nip it from his fingers and down the liquid inside.

"In need of some liquid courage, Miss—" she glared "—Hermione?"

She shrugged as the liquor and her embarrassment infused her cheeks with a red glow.

The two sat in silence for a bit. Warmth was flowing through Hermione's body and she didn't reach for the firewhiskey again. Severus sat still, nursing another glass. She spoke.

"What is love?"

He almost didn't hear her and when he realized what she said, he frowned.

She continued to speak, oblivious to his reaction. "I mean… I think its just pain. It's a thing for lucky people but for the rest of us, we fools, we just get sort of sucked into it and then it destroys us. Love is silly. I thought I loved him. But I suppose I don't and I've sort of come to terms with that. Or at least, I'd like to think I have. I feel trapped, like I can't let go of him but I need to move on but I just _can't_ and I hate it." She scoffed then. "Love is useless and false. It's just a pretty illusion."

"No. Love is just a word until the right someone comes along and gives it meaning."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. His gaze fixed on hers with jarring intensity, pulling down her every barrier without any Legilimancy. But they broke away and drifted down, over her flushed cheeks and fixated on her slightly parted lips.

And he couldn't look away.

The clock struck twelve and they both jumped at the tolling noise. They heard the far away imagined echo's of New Year's partying.

She spoke quietly over the tolling of the grandfather clock in the room. "It's a tradition to kiss someone when the clock strikes twelve."

"That would be vastly inappropriate… Hermione." Her name flowed off his tongue and he wasn't sure who had moved towards the other as her face filled his vision.

"I want my New Year's kiss, Severus."

"I…"

His voice trailed off. Someone moved forwards. Or maybe they both did. Their lips met.

The taste of firewhiskey lingered on their tongues as they drew slowly away.

**XX**

_The Life of Your OTP Challenge/Competition – Severus/Hermione, Killer – rain, over, cover, tremble, orange, "love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning"_

_Camp Potter: A Challenge – Campfire Songs (lyric inspired) - "You say, 'Too late to start with your heart in a headlock. You know you're better than this.'" - Headlock, Imogen Heap._

Sorry for going MIA on this for a bit. Please review, it would mean the world :)


	5. Lust

**Words: 2134**

**XX**

He didn't know what possessed him to do it, but before any semblance of reason entered his mind, he had already asked her to the ball. She hadn't left his thoughts since that fateful New Years night. Granted, she had been in his thoughts constantly before but for an entirely different reason. Once, when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, it had been with worry, to note if she was eating properly, to listen carefully to her laugh to discern whether it was real or forced. Before that night, he would never have looked at her the way he did now.

He was still equally careful to hide his glances as he was before. After all, he couldn't figure out what was worse, caring for the stubborn girl (because that was all she was compared to him, a mere girl) or lusting after her. At least before, when he was monitoring her health, he didn't feel like a dirty old man. But now, whenever his eyes inevitably strayed to her form, he wasn't thinking about her eating habits or her health; he was thinking of how glorious her wild hair would look spread across his sheets, he was remembering the press of her breasts against his chest through layers of fabric and wondering if they would feel as soft against his skin.

He couldn't decide if she remembered the night or if the firewhiskey had stolen her memories. She was unnervingly blasé around him and he would have been certain she didn't remember but for the fact that once in a while, he would catch her staring at his lips with an unfamiliar expression in her eyes.

So it came to be that during a so-called casual conversation between them that felt rather forced on his part, he found the words tumbling (or so it seemed, for him) out of his mouth, his carefully maintained filter disappearing when a breeze blew and she sighed and tossed her wild hair out of her eyes.

"There is to be a ball at the Malfoy's, I was wondering if you would accompany me."

She stopped mid-theory, her mouth flopping open partway though a sentence regarding the third use of dragon's blood. A blush infused her cheeks and though he was berating himself for his request, he couldn't help but rejoice in the pink color over her face because he knew for certain (not that there truly was much of a doubt) that she remembered.

She stammered an enthusiastic yes and he smiled inwardly at the thought that he had finally managed to stop her train of thought.

XX

It wasn't until the night of the ball that he realized how much of a mistake he had made. This mistake was twofold. Firstly, the ball was an affair that the Malfoys held every year, before an after the war. It was considered the paramount event in Pureblood society, the event that everyone who was anyone wanted to attend. It was also an event with the most narrow guest list in the world, limited only to other Purebloods and those select few the Malfoys deigned important or influential enough to also include, including himself. Of course, after the war, Hermione had been included on this list. Also obviously, she had never attended due to her memories of the hall where she lay on the floor, tortured to unconsciousness by the Mrs. Malfoy's late elder sister. How could he bring her back to that place after what had occurred there?

The second reason for which he realized his mistake didn't actually occur until he was knocking on the frame of the portrait that guarded her room and she opened the door.

His breath whistled out of his lungs, leaving him gasping at the sight of her. She wore a Muggle gown – a daring _Muggle gown!_ – of blood red, a slinky affair that hugged her every curve with a daring slit that reached past her mid-thigh, past all semblance of propriety. Her glorious hair was piled atop her head, with a few delicate tendrils dipping down to brush against her bosom. She wore delicate silver earrings and a matching silver necklace, and her lips where a red that matched her gown.

He couldn't spend a night around her looking that way. He couldn't spend a minute around her.

But he managed to compose himself and with a "You look stunning, Hermione" that caused her to blush the color of her dress, he proffered his arm and led her down the stairs, out the doors, and through the gates of Hogwarts. And instead of just leaving it be, he pulled her close before Apparating them to the Manor.

XX

She trembled like a leaf as they walked towards the building, but somewhere on the grass between the gates and the first worn grey stone step, she has mustered her courage. Though she still gripped his arm with a jarring intensity, he now had the impression that it was more to be near him, rather than simply a conduit for her fear. When they finally walked into the Manor behind a few other guests, she finally let out a sigh of relief.

He had forgotten about the remodeling. The place was barely recognizable from its days before the war, when the Dark Lord held court in the dining room. Narcissa had been increasingly agitated to live in a home where He had examined every corner. It had only taken a little persuasion on her part to get Lucius to agree to change the entire Manor – he did not like living with the memory of his cruel Master any more than she did.

He quickly realized that he had given Hermione less credit than she deserved. She had – surprisingly – mellowed to the point where she wasn't so quick to anger. The veiled insults of some of the not-so-subtle and not-quite-sorry invitees were either completely ignored or humorously shot down. She held herself with a grace he hadn't expected from her, especially considering her rashness with the business with the Weasley boy.

But the Weasley's were in attendance for this party, and though he was on the opposite side of the room when she first approached the ginger menace, he could see that the two of them apologized almost simultaneously and appeared to resume their friendship (a fact that was confirmed when she returned to his side after the conversation).

Still, he couldn't help but hold his breath when Lucius and Narcissa approached the two of them from across the room.

He wasn't quite sure why he kept underestimating her, but he did. He would continue to do so for years before she would finally sit him down and gently remind him that she wasn't a child anymore.

But when the elder Malfoys greeted Hermione and him, she smiled politely and completely diffused the affronted grimace on Narcissa's face with a well-timed compliment.

"I love the Versailles influence of the remodeling, Mrs. Malfoy," she said, not quite gushing but rather enthusiastic. "The red and gold brocade on the chairs here are quite authentic and loyal to the Baroque style."

For anyone who actually knew Narcissa Malfoy, they knew that complimenting her home was the easiest way to get into her good books. Without him even telling her, she had known precisely what to say. Narcissa, pleasantly surprise, promptly hooked her arm through Hermione's and the two women wandered off deeper into the hall.

"She… isn't what I expected," said Lucius suddenly. "I thought she would be… ruder."

He turned, tearing his eyes away from her, and looked at the blonde man in astonishment. While he might have hoped for Narcissa's approval, he never thought he would have Lucius'. He could do little but stare, his mouth gaping open.

Lucius continued on, nonplussed by his friend's lack of words. "I must admit, when you told me you were bringing her as your plus one, I was horrified. But she's changed, Severus. And for the better, I must say. She actually has tact now."

He couldn't help but laugh a little bit at the declaration. She had everyone quite fooled if they though she had tact, as he distinctly remembered her slapping him nearly a year ago for an imagined insult of her intelligence.

XX

The night was growing old. Lucius had left him ages ago to mingle with other guests and left with the distasteful option of mingling with imbeciles, he retreated to the starlit balcony. He wasn't sure how long he stood there alone, nursing a single glass of wine, staring out over the merry lights that lit the gardens, but he was instantly aware the moment she stepped outside with him.

He turned to see here standing there, in that beautiful gown, smiling softly with a matching glass in her hand.

"How was your talk with Narcissa?" he asked as she floated over to him.

"Surprising," she replied, her eyes leaving his face to gaze at the stars. "I... I never thought she would be so civil to me."

"It's in our blood to underestimate others."

"I did her a great disservice," Hermione said with a sigh, taking a sip of the red wine. "I thought her a horrible woman because of how Draco always behaved. But... I suppose people change, or they prove you wrong."

"Narcissa hasn't changed in all the time I've known her," replied Severus. "But I have learned that we cannot judge those around us before we see who they really are."

"Are we still talking about Narcissa?" She was facing him once more

He simply smirked at her, turning to his glass.

"What did you talk about?" he asked when they had been silent for a few minutes.

"Stars," replied Hermione. "And, shockingly, family history. I felt like I was teaching Muggle Studies, explaining Dentistry to a Witch."

He couldn't stop himself, a true laugh bursting from his lips at the image of Hermione and Narcissa discussing Muggles.

She grinned at that, delighted by the novel sound of laughter in his deep baritone.

"We spoke of her family too," she said suddenly. "I was curious as to why she wasn't named after a star like her sisters."

He paused at that, his laugh halted by the shock that she would be willing to discuss a family that caused her so much pain.

Hermione shrugged, understanding his surprise without him expressing it aloud. "I was honestly just curious," she said. "It's a bit weird, honestly, naming everyone in a family after stars. And it's even weirder considering the number of exceptions."

"How do you know the exceptions?"

"Grimmauld Place was rather boring at best," she laughed. "I spend most of my time studying the house itself. The Black family tapestry was one of the more fascinating, less dangerous decorations there."

"Did Narcissa satisfy your curiosity in that regard?"

"Quite," she said happily. "Though the answer was rather more silly than I anticipated. It's simply been in her family for generations, strange or otherwise, though she suspects it has something to do with Phineus Nigellus having a soft spot for Astronomy."

Her laugh filled the crisp night air and he reveled in the privilege of openly watching her.

XX

They remained on the balcony for a while, drawing nearer and nearer as the night grew colder and colder. Eventually, as the sound inside grew quieter and quieter, they simultaneously agreed to depart. After bidding the Malfoys a farewell with a wave across the room, they sped across the grounds and he Apparated the both of them back to Hogwarts.

Without realizing it, they walked through the castle deep in conversation, completely bypassing her rooms, ending up back in his study on the couch where they first shared a kiss. But suddenly the location struck them and they were both silent, not quite awkwardly but not quite casual.

He was drowning in the silence when he was suddenly jolted out of it as she placed herself on his lap and kissed him like he had been hoping she would. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers carded through his hair. He ran his hands up her bare thigh to the small of her back and pulled her as close as he possibly could. She moaned in his ear as his mouth dropped to her neck, her fingers wandering to pull his tucked shirt from his pants and frantically pull at the buttons. He picked her up mid-kiss and stumbled towards the bedroom at her urging.

XX

He slept soundly that night for the first time in ages, as did she.

XX

He slept soundly with a smile on his face because his wildest hopes and dreams had come into fruition.

XX

They had a future.

**XX**

_Life of Your OTP Round 2 – Severus/Hermione – history; authentic; grass; grey; __**red**_

_The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Astronomy (students are to write about how The House of Black became known to name their children after stars/constellations) – ginger; a character must hit another character; "Stars are beautiful, but they must not take an active part in anything, they must just look on forever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was." – J. M. Barrie; drama; It has been in our family for generations, who cares if it's weird?; Pureblood Ball_

_The 2013 Summer Olympics – Gymnastics Floor (one song-inspired fic) – fall; wave; Hermione Granger; Romance; "True Colors" by Cyndi Lauper_

_The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style Challenge – Round 5 – starlight; hope; "It's in our blood."; a bedroom; Muggle Studdies_

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